


Conqueror

by Batsymomma11



Series: Lord Kal [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beating, Bruce Needs a Hug, Dark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt Bruce, Justice Lords Universe, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Physical Abuse, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 04:55:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsymomma11/pseuds/Batsymomma11
Summary: The prequel to Kal's indulgence in the darkness and his steady decline into depravity. Bruce gets a taste of Kal's violent nature and what is to come in this Justice Lord's Universe.





	Conqueror

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING--This is violent and contains beating with sexual undertones. This is meant to be a prequel to All Mine and shows the escalation of Kal's depravity. If you are not OK with beating that clearly has one person getting off and very slight references to future rape, then DON'T read this. I've rated this story explicit because of the maturity of this content.
> 
> This story is in an alternate universe where Kal is super dark and twisted. The Justice Lords rule the world and they do what they want. It will probably not be canon compliant. 
> 
> I do not own DC or its characters. I do own this story.
> 
> Enjoy!

            “Lord Batman, I need your notes on the insurgency retaliation right away.”

            “You will have them within the hour.”

            “Good. Give me the news from the Outremer.”

            Lord Batman was dressed more casually than Kal liked, wearing only a light Royal jacket with the Superman emblem over the breast pocket, rather than the cowl and uniform. His hands were steepled under his chin and his ankles crossed in front of him. He was the picture of ease.

            Only Kal could hear how Bruce’s heart raced within his chest. Only Kal could see the perspiration speckling his brow, dampening the gray streaked hair on his temples. He cocked his head at his friend, studying him carefully as the Bat swallowed.

            “It is—ongoing. Reports have been spotty.”

            “But there have been some.”

            Gray eyes met blue over the expanse of the table and Diana shifted in her seat from the rising tension. No one liked to upset Kal and there was a reason they were leery. Four years post global takeover, and Kal’s patience with failure had dwindled to nearly nonexistent.

            “Yes.”

            “Then I want them.”

            Bruce’s hands unfolded, a soft sigh escaping his lips, “We’ve lost more than previously expected. Our death toll is high.”

            “Numbers.”

            “Close to a thousand.”

            Kal’s hands fisted on the table and Bruce’s eyes jerked to them, his heart now slamming in the stillness of the room. It was a like a war drum in Kal’s ear, pressing him to make it race even faster. Urging him to punish and hurt. To make that heart sing for its failings.

            How dare Bruce promise him victory then offer him nothing but bitter death? How dare he fail when he knew how important each and every inch they gained from the Resistance was? It was tempting to reach across the table and haul the Bat to his toes now. To start the punishment immediately.

            Kal’s stomach flipped with something close to excitement and he neither fostered it nor ignored it. It was just there. He liked to punish his Bat. It was simply—a reality of this new world they lived. A reality of what the humans brought out in him.

            “That is unfortunate news. You led me to believe our success would be almost guaranteed.”

            “I didn’t say—” Bruce’s lips clamped tight when Kal slammed a hand down on the table, cracking the glossy wood.

            “Don’t argue semantics with me, Bruce.”

            The air crackled with tension and the hunger for blood grew in Kal’s stomach. His hands itched to feel the air cut off from Bruce’s throat. His skin felt desperate for a coating of the Bat’s blood to soothe the primal restlessness. And he did nothing to hide his eagerness. Nothing to shield Bruce from what he wanted.

            The Bat knew. It was why he’d gone stiff, the column of his throat so beautifully long as he worked to swallow the fear down. But Kal could see everything. Could hear the hitching breaths. Could taste the primal fear on the tip of his tongue when he drew in a deep enough breath. It was making him crazed.

            “Lord Kal,” Diana soothed from his right, voice soft and calming, “a thousand men is hardly a drop in the bucket. We’ve hundreds of thousands of soldiers. This is a minor setback. It was a possibility we knew could happen. Given more time and resources, I’m certain Lord Batman will not fail you again.”

            “Certain, are you?”

            She smiled, though it was layered with unease, “Yes.”

            “You would vouch your own skin for his?”

            Diana lifted a brow, “I would. He learns quickly, does he not?”

            Kal smirked when Bruce frowned. “He does.”

            Diana pushed to a stand, stretching her arms overhead, drawing Kal’s gaze for a moment to admire her long frame. She was as beautiful and graceful as she’d always been. But there was nothing he liked better than to see her wearing his crest on her chest. Nothing he liked more than to have the permanent press of ownership emblazoned on her armbands. Unlike his Bat, Wonder Woman never failed him. She had never been subject to his wrath.

            At least not yet.

            Kal looked back to the Bat who was still silent and ground his teeth. “Failure means punishment.”

            Diana sighed, “Yes, I suppose it does.”

            “Lord Batman,” Kal growled, “Nothing to say for yourself?”

            “You have already decided.”

            Kal lifted a brow at the trace of insolence in Bruce’s tone, so in opposition to the tightly coiled tension of his muscles. Of the fear thrashing through the human’s veins.

            “Go to my quarters and wait for me. I will be there straight away. Diana, I will expect your presence as well.”

            “Of course, Kal.”

           

            Kal stopped in the mess hall for a cup of coffee on the way to his quarters, allowing the anticipation to build in his middle like a fine wine. It had been nearly thirty days since the last time he’d had Bruce bent over his desk, beneath the punishing blows of the belt. Kal felt jittery with desire.  

            He would be a fool if he said he didn’t enjoy these confrontations between he and Bruce. He would be a liar if he said he didn’t get a sexual high off of making the other man bend to his will. Making him bleed and beg.

            Such things would never have happened before. But now, was a different time. Almost a different dimension.

            He strode the halls of the Watchtower with silent appraisal, nodding at his soldiers as he passed them, lingering over framed photographs and the panoramic views of space from the windows. The watchtower had changed very little under Kal’s direction. But there were enough differences for it to be obvious, that things had changed.

            Kal’s symbol painted every doorway. Every uniform. Every heart. They were all under his leadership and he owned them.

            When he grew restless with frustration, he would come here and trace every symbol with his fingertips until the roiling in his chest calmed. He would study the lines of the Watchtower and recall the first days, the early times where there was so much blood on the streets, it painted the asphalt red for weeks. And it would calm him. It would center his ragged thoughts.

            When Kal came to his own quarters, he could hear the heartbeats of his comrades within already. Bruce, fast and wild. Diana, steady but slightly raised. Her presence ensured that the beating went smoothly, like an insurance policy, should Bruce decide to fight. And Kal enjoyed an audience.

            Striding into the chambers, Kal nodded at Diana, who was already seated at his desk in her usual position and Bruce was standing at the front, hands behind his back, fingers laced tightly together. His chin was down he was looking at the floor already. His posture reeked of submission and it made Kal’s mouth water. He imagined he was going to enjoy this one more than usual.

            Then again, every beating brought them closer and closer to what he _really_ wanted. It should not surprise him that he grew more restless by the day to get it.

            Kal walked silently to the far wall where he kept the leather studded belt and drew it off the hook. The leather was warm and familiar in his palm and there were flecks of blood embedded in the studs he’d not bothered to clean. He liked to see it when he was feeling nostalgic and needy.

            “Take off your clothes.”

            Bruce’s gaze flickered up, his brows drawing low, “We don’t usually—”

            “Are you arguing with me Bruce?”

            “I—I don’t understand the need—”

            “Take them off. I’m angry with you. I want this to hurt more. Do you understand now?”

            Bruce’s gaze darted to Diana and she shrugged both shoulders, “Kal is right. The failure was more aggravating than usual.”

            When Bruce simply stood there, eyes burning holes into the ground, Kal took a threatening step nearer and gestured with the belt, “If you don’t do it on your own, I’ll do it myself. And I won’t be gentle with you.”

            Bruce’s hands went straight to his shirt, fingers trembling imperceptibly, breath stuttering as he worked through the buttons. It took longer than it should have for the man to disrobe, but Kal wasn’t complaining, he liked the display. It made his gut curl even more with the heady kick of excitement.

            “Hands on the desk.”

            Down to skin, Bruce obeyed silently, shoulders hunched so tight they nearly touched his ears.

            Kal waited a beat, because he was nothing if not a bit of a showman, then brought the leather down hard on Bruce’s back. The crack of skin beneath the leather was delicious but Bruce’s shocked grunt was even better. It wouldn’t take long before the grunts became moans and then the moans broken wails. If he was lucky, he might even get a few tears for this. Kal was looking forward to the possibility.

            He brought the belt down a few more times, careful to keep the strength of the blows just enough to leave bright red welts on the skin. He didn’t want to break the skin just yet. Not until he’d gotten the Bat good and worked up.

            By the time Kal paused at twenty lashes, Bruce was sagging into the desk, upper body hardly a handful of inches off the wood, breaths sobbing out of his lungs like he’d run a marathon. Kal was so hard he ached. He’d have to take care of that when he was finished here.

            “You’re holding out on me Bruce.”

            Bruce said nothing. Kal didn’t suppose he could with how he was gasping like a fish out of water. He brought the belt down on Bruce’s ass and watched with sick pleasure as the skin split open like a squashed grape. Bruce yelped in pain, hitting his forehead on the desk. Diana remained absolutely motionless, but her gaze was bright and interested. She got just as much out of this as he did.   

“Are you sorry for failing me?”

            Another slap of leather, this time a little lighter to prevent a split. But it was right over the bloodied trail he’d left before, and Bruce groaned loudly, now completely flattened like a well-used whore on the desk. He was panting, face red and sweaty, eyes wild and unfocused.

            “Are you?” Two more slaps, little trickles of blood trailing down abused skin and the inside of muscled thighs. Kal wanted to lap the blood up with his tongue.

            “Yes,” Bruce grunted, biting his bottom lip till it bled when Kal delivered a blow across his shoulder blades that broke the skin again. “Fuck, please, Kal. I’m sorry.”

            “Please what?”

            Bruce tried to sit up, but his legs were weak and he nearly slumped to the floor. Kal moved to the desk and pressed one hand to the back of his neck to keep him still. “Diana?”

            She obliged silently, moving to stand beside him. Her hand brushed his own as it took over holding Bruce down. This was usually where it got more exciting. It was where the instinct to run became so strong even the Bat had no choice but to answer it. He’d start begging even more. Bruce would break soon and Kal would stop just short of making himself cum at the sounds of it.

            The leather was slippery with blood now and Kal reveled in the way it stained his fingers red. He slapped the belt down three more times and Bruce arched on the desk, fighting in earnest to get up now. His bare feet scrabbled on the floor, his fingers clawed at the wood.

            This one might be the best one so far. The most satisfying.

            Blood spattered on Kal’s mouth and he laughed, hitting Bruce a little harder, putting just a touch more strength behind the blows. A strangled masculine wail filled the room and it went straight to Kal’s groin. He was so close to just stopping this and taking Bruce to the floor to finish, it was close thing. He wanted to.

            He wanted to feel what it would be like to dominate Bruce so completely that there wouldn’t be any fight left in him. He wanted to take that last wall down and _own_ every bit of the Bat.

            But he’d not fully reconciled with the idea of taking Bruce against his will. There was a part of Kal, the smallest of slivers that grew smaller daily, which wanted the bleeding man on his desk to want him back. Even though he knew that day would never come.

            There was only hatred in those silver eyes now. Only sick rage that colored their depths.

            Kal paused mid-strike when he saw the tears that swelled and then spilled over Bruce’s lids onto the desk. When he saw Kal staring, studying with such rapt attention, Bruce screwed his eyes closed and whispered something only Kal could hear. It was like a caress of fingers down his spine.

            “Please Kal. God, please stop.”

            “Louder Bruce,” Kal urged, kneeling so he could be a breath away from Bruce. This close he could watch the rivulets of blood steadily drip to the floor. He could see the sweat pearl and then fall down the planes of those sharp cheekbones. The mouth sagged open, lips trembling. The eyes with pupils blown from pain and fear, staring sightlessly at the wall.

            “Please,” Bruce’s voice cracked, “I’m sorry Kal.”

            Kal finally looked up at Diana and she nodded, a silent agreement to stop. The payment had been made.

            Lord Batman wouldn’t be able to patrol his precious Gotham like this for days. He’d need ample recovery time. The marks would scar and maim the long lines of his back and be a permanent reminder as to who owned him. Who he was most loyal.

            It was enough—for now.

            “Alright Bruce,” Kal mused, nodding at Diana to leave when Bruce exhaled sharply and slumped to the floor like a bag of rocks. Kal didn’t bother to make sure that she left, he trusted her to obey as she always did. Diana was nothing if not loyal.

            He liked to do this part alone. And she understood.

            Pulling Bruce to his chest, Kal held the trembling creature in his arms and carded a hand through the sweaty hair. Bruce made a protesting groan in the back of his throat and Kal sighed, “Why do you always fight me Bruce? Why do you disobey?”

            “I’m sorry Kal,” Bruce whispered, his words sounding slurred from fatigue. The beatings always seemed to take a great deal from the man. More than even his nights in Gotham used to.

            “It’s alright now,” Kal mused, liking the slick feel of the blood and sweat on his skin, “I’ll take care of you.”

            Bruce didn’t say anything else. He remained silent, though his mouth went flat as Kal lifted him and took him carefully to the shower. He hissed and squirmed when Kal used the showerhead to clean the wounds that marred him from lower thigh to upper back. Bruce was almost completely pliant by the time Kal was toweling him off.

            Kal liked this almost as much as he enjoyed the actual event.

He liked the after-care where Bruce was soft in his arms. Where his strong lean muscles were lax and pliable. Bruce didn’t fight him when he dressed his wounds. He didn’t fight the extra touches or the tracing of fingertips through his hair and over his cheekbones.

            It was the only time that Kal could pretend they were together as he wanted them. The only time where reality even remotely mirrored what he really wanted.

            Kal carried Bruce bridal style to his bed and deposited him onto the mattress like a parent does a sleeping child. But Bruce’s eyes were wide open. His cheeks colorless and his expression vacant.

            Kal brushed a thumb over Bruce’s cheekbone and frowned, “Will you fail me again Bruce?”

            The man stared sightlessly at Kal, his heartbeat skittering suddenly in his chest. But he remained silent. Kal shook his head.

            “We could avoid all of this.”

            Bruce’s eyes found his and frowned.

            Not yet. Soon. But not yet.

            Kal sighed, pushing to a stand. “Rest Bruce. I’ll be by later to check on you. You can think about how to fix what happened in the Outremer in the morning.”

            When he flipped off the cabin lights and stepped out into the hall, Kal let himself rest against the closed door for a solid minute to get his own heart back under control. He wasn’t going to be able to wait much longer before giving in. He _needed_ to feel Bruce beneath him and take what should have been his all along.

            Years ago, the idea of using his best friend in such a manner, let alone beating him like that, would have been unconscionable. But that man was dead. He’d died so long ago, Kal couldn’t remember what it felt like to be so righteous and clean.

            Now, Kal only knew blood. He only knew ownership. And he knew conquering. He was Lord. And a Lord, took what was his without qualm.

             


End file.
